Follow Me Home (47 page)

‘Night, Zara.'

I have a shower and go to bed, falling asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

Having parked the car at the foot of the escarpment, I keep Frosty on the lead, walking along the steep path between the coppiced beech and hazel, the branches arching overhead and the sunshine casting dappled shadows through the autumn leaves, until I reach the plateau that looks out towards the sea. I stroll among the bracken, yellow gorse and purple heather to the wooden signpost, where I turn left and take a seat on the bench to take in the view and wait for Lewis and his dogs.

How do I feel? A little annoyed with myself for giving in and agreeing to meet him after all. Nervous too. But in the end I thought, why not? Maybe it's easier to clear the air when it's just the two of us, rather than wait until my whole family is watching.

A cold wind stings my cheeks and ruffles Lewis's hair as he strides towards me. Frosty tugs on the lead, twists her body and wrenches it from my grasp, tearing up to Lewis, barking with excitement. She leaps up into his open arms, leaps out again, jumps up and sticks her nose into the pocket of his trousers, and pulls out what looks like a banknote before tearing it up into shreds.

‘That was twenty quid,' he says, looking down ruefully. ‘What did you go and do that for, Frosty?'

‘I'm sorry. She's pleased to see you,' And so am I, I want to say, if I'm being honest with myself. If I were a dog, I'd be wagging my tail too.

‘She has an expensive way of showing it.' Lewis pauses without making any comment on the progress of Frosty's training. ‘It's good to see you, Zara.'

‘You too,' I say, even more nervous now because I feel too much for him ever to be just friends.

‘Thanks for agreeing to meet.'

‘Half an hour,' I remind him. ‘That's all.' I relent a little, feeling more cheerful. ‘You've had two minutes already.' I stand up and catch Frosty while Lewis whistles for the collies, which greet me calmly. I bend down and stroke Mick and then Miley. I've missed them. It's as if Lewis and I had our own little family that fell apart when I broke up with him.

‘You can let her off, can't you?' he says. ‘Mick is here to act as Frosty's ears.'

‘She's missed that,' I say, unclipping her lead.

‘Let's walk.'

We stroll closer to the edge of the slope and pause by a clump of trees to gaze out at the water. I lean against one of the trunks, glancing up at the fungi that emerge from the tree's core like giant dinner plates. Lewis places his palm against the bark and stands so close to me that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.

‘I haven't stopped thinking about you,' he says, so quietly that I can hardly hear him over the sound of my thundering heart. It is as though he is shepherding my emotions, rounding up the good ones and driving the bad away.

‘Please, let's not go there.' I force myself to take back control before I'm swept up by a wave of lust and desire.

‘How would you feel if I asked you again to take me back?' Lewis scrapes his fingernail across the trunk and chips off a fragment of bark. ‘I've talked to Mick and Miley and, although they're good listeners, they aren't brilliant at dishing out advice. If they could have an opinion, they would probably tell me I'm on a hiding to nothing? Am I, Zara?' He drops his hand and gently touches my fingers. I draw back, burying my hands in my coat pockets as my heart pounds a familiar rhythm.

I shake my head. I didn't come here for this.

‘I don't want to think about it.' I hear my voice grow harsh. ‘I'm going back to the car – your time is up.'

‘You agreed to meet me, so you might as well listen,' he says, blocking my path.

‘I only came because you and Emily wouldn't give up, and you were kind helping look for Gran. Don't read any more into it.'

‘Do you hate me that much?'

‘Of course I don't hate you, but I can't take you back. It isn't that straightforward.'

‘It seems very simple to me.'

When he stands in front of me like this, the old feelings come rushing back, but the underlying reason for my decision to break up with him remains the same. It's a physical pain, raw, throbbing and unrelenting. I'm barren, empty, infertile and incomplete. I can't have Lewis's children.

‘I mean it when I say I love you more than anyone in the world,' he goes on. ‘I've had time to think, to reflect on what I really want out of life, when I've never taken it all that seriously before. I've missed you more than anything. I told you, I can live without a child, but I can't live without you. I'll never let you down. I promise.'

I stare out to sea, my mind an ocean of uncertainty. My head is telling me to stay back and keep life simple, while my heart is telling me to go for it. I gaze back at him, his eyes glinting with that animal passion that I cannot resist. I want him. He wants me. Isn't that enough?

I stumble forwards, straight into his arms, and somehow his lips land on my mouth, or my mouth lands on his lips, I'm not sure which, and we're kissing like we've never kissed before.

Lewis pulls away slightly. I can hear his breathing, ragged and matching mine.

‘Does this mean . . .?' he whispers.

I nod, at the same time as a dog, no, three dogs, start barking.

‘Look at that,' Lewis says, stepping aside so I can see Frosty, Mick and Miley standing in a row, staring at us, open-mouthed, ready to bark again.

‘I think they're telling us it's time to move on,' Lewis says, taking my hand.

‘Let's go,' I add, happy to start again and see where it takes us.

‘When we said we'd see where it goes, I didn't imagine we'd end up down here,' I say, staring out through the
windscreen of the pick-up and trying to work out what Lewis is so excited about. We've been back together for over a month now, and it's a Saturday afternoon in early December, the day of Lewis's twenty-fourth birthday. The trees are bare of leaves, their branches dark against a pale wintry sky, and we're parked on the edge of Talyton's industrial estate, not far from Overdown Farmers and the garage where I have my car serviced.

‘This seems a strange place to choose to celebrate your birthday. What am I supposed to be looking at?' I ask.

‘The vista ahead.' Lewis drums his fingers against the steering wheel. ‘Tell me what you see.'

‘A desolate landscape,' I respond.

‘Look more closely.'

‘Okay, I can see a rusty five-bar gate locked with an even rustier padlock and chain with a kind of wasteland behind it. Isn't this the place where Frank Maddocks used to live, the father of the guy who abandoned Frosty?'

‘That's what I've been told. It's come up for rent and I'm first in the queue. It isn't much, just a couple of acres, but it's a start.' Lewis smiles. ‘It's for the sheep.'

The mention of sheep reminds me. I was going to give him his birthday card later with the meal I'm supposed to be cooking for him, a romantic evening with candles and a DVD, but it seems more appropriate now. I pull the envelope from my bag.

‘You'd better have this,' I say leaning across to kiss his cheek. ‘Happy birthday, my darling.'

‘Thank you,' I watch him open the card and pick up the piece of paper that slips out. ‘What's this?'

‘It's an IOU, as in “ewe”.' I spell it out for him. ‘I want to buy you your very first sheep, but I couldn't exactly go to the market to pick one up, and keep it in the annexe.'

‘Oh, that's brilliant. You are a genius.' Lewis hugs me. ‘I can buy several sheep, if I go ahead and rent this place.'

‘Are you sure it's suitable? It's full of rubbish.'

‘Come on, let your imagination run riot.'

‘I'm sorry, but I'm struggling. The only things running riot are the weeds.'

‘It needs a bit of work – that's why it's cheap. I've spoken to Murray and he's offered to give me a hand.'

‘I wouldn't touch it. It's a terrible mess. It'll take years to clear up.'

‘You have no vision, Zara.'

‘You have no sense of reality.' I stop winding him up, not wanting to hurt his feelings because he's clearly sold on the idea of starting his farming enterprise here.

‘We have to start somewhere.'

‘We?'

‘I was hoping it could be a joint venture. Why don't you come and have a look?'

I glance down at my feet.

‘No excuses. I've put your wellies in the back.'

‘You came prepared.'

Lewis reaches across the back of the seat and rests his arm around my shoulders. With his other hand,
he strokes the inside of my wrist, sending thrills of anticipation across my skin.

‘I want your opinion.'

‘What do I know about land and sheep?' I chuckle.

‘I thought I'd taught you quite a lot over the past few months.'

We walk to the gate and I climb over after Lewis, who turns and takes my hand to help me over a piece of discarded corrugated iron which lies between us and a clump of small trees. Beyond these lies a clearing of concrete hard-standing.

‘There used to be mobile home on here. I thought I'd build a barn where I can store a trailer and tractor, and see if I can get hold of a caravan.'

‘Not to live in,' I say quickly. ‘That sounds top much like roughing it to me.'

‘No, for somewhere to keep warm and boil a kettle when the weather's bad.' He tips his head to one side. ‘A love nest, and then the rest of the time we can live just down the road in Talyton. There's a house for rent opposite the church, if you're interested.' He pauses. ‘We can't stay at your sister's for ever. There'll be work at Greenwood Farm for the lambing season, and I expect Murray will keep me on for the shearing, but after that, Emily will be back after her maternity break. Not only that, it would be good to have a home that's more like our own.'

He's right, I think. I moved into the annexe at the farm with Lewis, more by accident than design, when Ally Jackson signed the rental agreement on the shop, which effectively made me homeless. (My parents decided to hang on to the freehold for now.)

‘I'd love to get a place together,' I say, leaning against him.

He slides his arms around my waist and gazes into my eyes.

‘I know you've said you'd never marry again, but is there any chance . . .?'he begins.

‘No,' I say quickly. ‘I'm sorry. That doesn't mean I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you. I just don't want the fuss, the ring and the piece of paper. It doesn't mean anything to me. I want us to stay just as we are.'

‘That's okay,' he says, touching his nose to mine. ‘I don't mind as long as we're together.'

‘You won't expect me to do the farmer's wife stuff like Emily does, getting up in the middle of the night?'

‘Maybe. You'll be better at delivering lambs than I am – you have smaller hands.' He holds my hand, turns it over in his and strokes my fingers. Sensing his desire, I look straight into his eyes.

‘I think I'd like you to take me back to bed,' I whisper.

‘You are insatiable . . .' He kisses my ear.

‘It is your birthday,' I tease.

‘It feels like it's my birthday every day.' He hesitates. ‘I thought we were going to visit Rosemary.'

‘We can do that on the way back to the farm – if you're sure.' I try to get there at least twice a week. ‘She can be pretty peculiar. She doesn't always remember family now, let alone anyone else.' I bite my lip.

‘I won't be offended.'

I link my arm through his and we return to the
pick-up. Lewis drives to the nursing home, stopping at the shop on the way to buy Gran some sweets.

I choose mint humbugs, sherbet lemons and jellybeans. Ally, James's mum, serves me, struggling to balance the scales as she pours the sweets into a paper bag. It doesn't seem right seeing someone else behind the counter. The name of the shop – the Village News – hasn't changed, but everything else about it feels as though it has.

‘How's it going?'I ask her.

‘It's been fun so far. Mind you, I thought it was going to be a whole lot easier to make money from newspapers, by selling and delivering them, than it is writing articles for the
Chronicle.
James is already threatening to strike over his pay.' She smiles wryly. ‘I love my customers, though. They're great, very loyal to your grandmother, and the shop. Wish Rosemary all the best from me, won't you?'

I will,' I say.

On my way out, I notice the headline on the
Chronicle:
‘Sentenced for Assault on Ex-Girlfriend', and a photo of Frank Maddocks's son. So, he hasn't been charged with animal cruelty, but he's going to be locked up for some considerable time. I'm not sure it's enough, but at least he's being punished. His girlfriend and baby appear to have had a lucky escape.

Gran is looking physically well, sitting in her room at the old people's home with the radio on and a book of crosswords that falls from her lap when I walk in to see her. I pick it up and flick through it. All the puzzles are blank. It's too late to expect that solving clues and
playing word-games can improve her memory. She has the photo of Granddad on the shelf above her commode and John's letters in the drawer. I did get in touch with his family, but it wasn't good news – he died a few months after his holiday in Talyton St George and I decided to let sleeping dogs lie, as Gran would have said. Some romances are best left in the past. The cuckoo clock is on the wall beside the bed, but the cuckoo is silent now, as if it's retired to a quieter life behind its doors. I did suggest that we had it repaired, but my grandmother didn't seem interested in the idea. I think even that was beyond her, her life having shrunk, contained and confined within these four walls.